


Transcendental

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Sex, Claustrophobia, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Isolation, Kidnapping, M/M, POV First Person, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Retrograde Amnesia, Stockholm Syndrome, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 06:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17913551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: PLEASE READ THE TAGS!Harry Potter is tired. He thought he had killed Voldemort, but it’s been three years and his scar still hurts all the time. One day, he’s approached by a man in Knockturn Alley and is apparated into a small room, with no wand, no cloak, and no Hermione to figure out how to leave. Where is he? What’s happening in the outside world? And who is the voice he keeps hearing?





	Transcendental

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pretty dark story, for me.  
> I've never written a full plot in first person, so if you have any feedback, let me know.
> 
> -Tez

“Harry, you need to talk to someone about this,” said Hermione. “I know you’re having issues with what’s probably PTSD, and you need to get a therapist. There’s something I’ve read about called phantom pain. It happens when you’ve felt something painful many times, and you feel it again. You’re not truly experiencing pain, but your brain is telling you that you are.”

“Hermione, I know this is real. Please, trust me. Voldemort isn’t really gone. If he was, there’s no possible reason for me to be feeling pain in my scar. Come on, Hermione. If you don’t believe me, who else will?” I plead. Hermione sighed loudly and handed me a piece of parchment.

“I knew something like this would happen, so I booked you an appointment with a mind healer in Diagon Alley for this afternoon. She’s very discreet. You should go, if not for your sake, then for mine,” said Hermione. I reluctantly agreed to. We finished our lunch.

I had, as soon as I killed Voldemort, closed myself off from the rest of the wizarding world. For a little while, the media constantly reported on me, every time I was seen outdoors, and every time I wasn’t. By the end of my first year of solitude, though, they had calmed down a little bit and decided to focus on the romance of Hermione and Ron. It had been three years since Voldemort died, and _I_ thought I was fine.

I was, in fact, ready to get back out into the world, but one way I woke up from a nightmare with my forehead feeling as though it had been split open. I’d gone back to bed, hoping that it would go away, but the next morning it was still horrible. I owl-ordered some headache relieving potions from Draco (who I had long since reconciled with) and spent the rest of the day asleep.

A week later was today, when I went to have lunch with Hermione. We spent much of the lunch talking about plans for Hermione and Ron’s upcoming wedding, but eventually the conversation halted as I had a flare up in pain. I had clapped my hands over my forehead and keeled over, and Hermione freaked out. She had almost called a healer, and I could only barely manage to convince her not to.

Regardless, I was now in Diagon Alley, standing outside of an unmarked building. I looked down at the paper in my hand, and back up the building. _34 Diagon Alley._ I pushed open the door and stepped inside.

“Hello?” I called. The inside of the building was cozy, with low lighting, soft-coloured walls, and comfortable looking furniture.

“Come in, come in,” came a voice. I stepped into the second room and was greeted by a rather short witch in dark purple robes.

“Please, sit down, Mr. Potter. Is this room good, or would you prefer something else?” asked the witch.

“This is fine.” I had never been to therapy before, and didn’t know what to expect. I sat down in a plushy chair and felt myself sink down into the cushion.

“Alright, Mr. Potter, let’s get started. I’m Monti Otters,” she said, holding out a hand for me to shake. “This is just a preliminary appointment, so I’ll just be asking you a few questions and having you fill out some forms. You can fill these out first,” she said, handing me a large pile of forms. “I will grab you a drink. Would you like tea, cocoa, butterbeer?”

“Some tea would be great,” I replied, conjuring a self-inking quill. I read through the first few pages of contracts and signed them, finally reaching a form. After filling out my name, age, and wand specifications, I reached the first question.

_Do you experience any of the following:_

_Unexplained pains_

_Hot flashes_

_Cold flashes_

_Heart palpitations_

_Difficulty concentrating_

_Shaky hands_

_Feelings of hopelessness_

_Constant hunger_

_Lack of hunger_

_Trouble sleeping_

_Constant nightmares_

_Fear (if so, please specify)_

_Occasional trouble breathing_

_Constant tiredness_

The list went on and on. I checked off unexplained pains, constant nightmares, difficulty forming relationships, difficulty maintaining relationships, and dislike for human interaction. Then I turned the page.

_Have you ever been involved with or experienced any of the following:_

_Abusive/neglectful childhood_

_Abusive relationships_

_Death of a family member, loved one, friend, or pet_

_Divorce_

_Hate crimes_

_Isolation_

_Natural disaster_

_Rape_

_Serious illness_

_Serious injury_

_Time in prison_

_Terrorism_

_War_

_Witness of death_

I really hadn’t known that all of these things would be important to a mind healer. I checked off neglectful childhood, death of a friend, war, and witness of death. I turned the page again.

_Why did you decide to visit a mind healer?_

I sat silently for a few minutes. Eventually I wrote: _I have been experiencing random bouts of pain in my forehead, just as I used to when having visions of Voldemort. After telling a friend about this, she recommended I come._

Monti came back with a cup of tea for me. I took a sip and continued to fill out the forms. Meanwhile, Monti was writing down something in a file folder. Eventually, I finished, and handed the pile of papers to Monti. She read through them.

“Mr. Potter, it appears that you may be suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Do you know what that is?” she asked. I nodded.

“Alright. Do you have any allergies?” I shook my head. “I’d like you to pick up a diagnostic potion from Malfoy’s Potion Emporium in Knockturn. Let me know what the results are, and we can meet again in two weeks.” I thanked her and left. I walked into Knockturn Alley, towards Draco’s store. Just as I was about to open the door, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Yes?” I asked, turning around. I got a glimpse of a dark-haired man before I was unconscious and whisked away.

I woke up in a small, dark-coloured room. I patted my pockets, but had no wand with me. I looked around, seeing no visible doors or window of any kind.

I was beginning to hyperventilate. The size and the darkness of the room was pulling me back to my childhood cupboard. I began to get frantic, feeling around for any cracks in the walls, floor, and ceiling around me, but feeling nothing, collapsed and began to cry.

When I finally calmed down, I could hear a voice outside. I had no idea how much time had passed. I could only hear snippets of the voice outside.

“Me? Kidnap him? I would never! Flynn, you know I hold a special place in my heart for—” the voice faded away. I tried my best to identify what I could from what I’d heard. Who did I know that was named Flynn? Flynn… Flynn… Fortescue! The ice cream man’s son? That wasn’t really helpful to me, but at least I knew that people had either seen me be taken, or that the news had spread fast of my disappearance.

The confusion began to wear off and I felt myself start to panic again. I curled up around myself, breathing slow, and fell fast asleep.

The next time I woke up, the room was significantly brighter. There was a small ball of light in the middle out the room, and next to it was a box. I opened the box. Inside was a tray of food, a bottle of water, a vial of potion, and a note.

 _Eat and drink. The potion will keep your strength up_ , I read. I was not about to trust someone who kidnapped me, so I closed the box. Instead, I picked up the ball of light and dropped it. It bounced. I rolled it across the floor. It rolled a foot and then stopped. It didn’t roll back.

“Hello?” I called out. No one responded. I think I fell asleep again soon afterwards.

The next time I woke up, there was a different box next to the ball of light, which had been moved back to the center of the room. I opened the box. Inside was another tray and another note.

 _Eat. And. Drink. I don’t want to have to force you, but I will._ I scowled. I opened the bottle of water and sniffed it. It had no smell. The only unscented potion was veritaserum, and I had no secrets, so if there was any I didn’t care. I took a few sips of the water, and then pressed the bottle to my face. It was cool against my skin.

“It’s warm in here,” I said. My voice sounded very quiet. The temperature dropped slightly.

“Thank you,” I said.The number one rule of being kidnapped was to not antagonise your kidnapper. Whomever or whatever had taken me was being kind, so I was polite.

I sat silently with my eyes closed for what I thought was several hours, but I didn’t fall asleep, so I opened them again. My stomach growled, and I picked up a slice of bread. I nibbled on the corner while eyeing the potion in the box. It was labeled ‘For Strength’. I did not touch it. I fell asleep again.

The woke up from a nightmare. The room looked a little bit bigger, but I didn’t know for sure. I picked up the ball of light and rolled it forward. It took a little bit longer than last time to reach the wall in front of me. Bigger, then. I suddenly felt very warm, so I removed my shirt. I could see my ribs easily. My stomach growled. I opened the box in the center of the room. It held a smaller tray of food, a new bottle of water, and a note.

_I see you’re having some difficulty eating. The water is spiked with a nutrition potion, so even if you can’t finish eating, you’ll feel nourished._

I sipped the water slowly and rolled the ball of light back and forth across the floor. Suddenly, something impacted the wall from outside. I moved away, but at the sound of a voice, I pressed my ear to the wall.

“—is impossible, Flynn. I’d never do such a thing, okay? Love you too. Bye.”

“Hello?” I called out. The footsteps that were retreating away stopped for a moment.

“Who are you? Where am I? Please let me out!” I called. I heard the footsteps approach me again, and then a loud snapping noise.

I woke up to a dark room. The light ball was gone, but there was another box in the room. I opened it. Inside was a tray, a bottle of water, and no note. The next time I heard a voice, I said nothing.

I was dreaming. I was back out in the world, having lunch with Draco. Draco leaned forward across the table and kissed me. I was confused.

“You’re gorgeous, Flynn,” he said.

I woke up gasping and sweating, remembering an article in the gossip column about Draco and Flynn going on a date. But Draco has blond hair, not black hair. Maybe he hired someone? But no way, Draco and I were friends! He wouldn’t kidnap me for no reason. So Flynn was cheating on Draco with someone! As soon as I got out, I’d definitely tell him.

After (what I assumed was) days of barely doing anything, all of that thinking made me very tired. I fell asleep again.

I woke up, the room was lit up again. I could hear a quiet tapping outside, but couldn’t recognise what it might be. The room was still small. There was a new box. Inside was a bowl of soup and a note.

_Be good._

I used the spoon to cut a knick in my right pointer finger. I turned the note over. Slowly, very slowly I wrote a message in my blood.

_If you are Draco Malfoy, think about the implications of your actions and know that people will have immediately suspected you. If you are not Draco Malfoy, you can let me out without revealing your identity and everyone will be none the wiser._

It took me probably an hour to write that. I ate the entire bowl of soup. As soon as I drained the bowl, the light cut out. I closed my eyes tight. The walls felt like they were closing in. How many days had it been? I had no idea.

My eyes snapped back open at the feeling of water. What was happening? I looked up, and water slid across my glasses. It was, presumably, coming from the top of the room, like warm rain. My clothes were soaked quite quickly. The water shut off and I shivered. A minute passed and I shivered again. Finally, a hot breeze swept through the room, and my skin and clothing dried. The temperature of the room increased until I felt woozy and passed out.

I was dreaming again. I was in a home, drinking tea with someone. A woman. She had frizzy brown hair. Next to her was a ginger man.

“How are you feeling, Harry?” asked the woman.

“I’m alright.”

“Well since you’re all great, we have some wonderful news. Hermione’s pregnant!” said the ginger man.

Hermione… where had he heard that name before? “Congratulations, Hermione!” I said.

I woke up. Hermione. Hermione. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew someone important named Hermione.

There was a new tray in front of me. On it was a bowl of mashed potatoes and a note. I spooned the potatoes into my mouth.

_You’ll never escape._

Why would I want to? I had nowhere to go. I shouted as much. There was a loud clicking noise, and the room filled with a sweet smelling aroma. I inhaled, and my arms suddenly felt as if they were floating. I fell unconscious yet again.

The next time I woke up, I was no longer in the room. Instead, I was in a blue bed in a very bright white room. Someone in a black robe with a silver mask covering their whole face stood over me. I could feel several needles in my arm.

“Relax,” said a voice, and I was asleep again.

I was having another dream. I was curled up in someone’s lap. Whoever it was had dark, curly hair and warm brown eyes.

“Good morning, Harry,” he said. “It’s nice to see you finally awake.” So strange of him to say, since I was dreaming.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name is Tom Riddle,” he responded, “and you are mine.”

Tom Riddle… I recognised the name, but was unsure from where. He seemed kind, though, not like the man who was holding him captive. I looked at him, a bit confused.

“You’re experiencing amnesia, Harry. You and I have been married for four years,” he said. He laced his hand with mine, showing me both of our rings.

“Hm,” I said.

“They only let you out of the hospital today to come home to me. I’ve missed you so much,” said Tom. He pulled me close and kissed me. I kissed back. I was dreaming, and he was attractive. Why not?

I must’ve said that out loud, because Tom pulled back.

“You’re not dreaming,” he said. “You were kidnapped, taken from me for a ransom for months. They hurt you and caused you to lose your memories.” I nodded. That did happen, because the last things I could remember were being in the tiny room and being in the hospital. I hugged Tom tightly. I would do my best to remember for him. I knew that I definitely loved him.

He kissed me again, and I pulled him close. He stood up, his arms under my thighs, and I realised that my legs were extremely sore. From sitting in the tiny room for so long, of course. Tom carried me from wherever we were into a bedroom. He lay me down on the bed and kissed me again. I wrapped my sore legs around his waist and he started to unbutton my shirt. He kissed my neck and I let out a shaky breath. I tangled my fingers into his hair. He bit my neck gently, and I gasped in pain. He apologised softly and kissed the bite.

He finished unbuttoning my shirt and slid it off my shoulders. I sighed loudly as he trailed kisses up and down my arms. He then scooted down the bed until he was level with my trousers. I blinked at him.

“May I?” he asked. I nodded. He pulled them down my legs and off. He kissed one of my thighs and I groaned softly. He moved back up and kissed me again, passionately. I held onto his neck tightly and kissed him back, pouring all the pain and fear I had felt in the Room into the kiss. I felt a wetness on my cheeks and noticed that I was crying. He kissed my tears away.

Tom rolled his hips against mine and I breathed out loudly. He reached between us and eased a warm hand into my pants. I gasped loudly and leaned into him. My cock felt harder than it ever had before. Tom pulled off my pants and slid a pillow below my hips. He sat back on his heels and dipped his finger in a pot of warm oil. I spread out my legs and he pressed a finger against me and eased it in. I clenched down hard and he kissed my knee.

“Relax,” he said, so I did. After a few minutes, he added a second and then a third finger. By the time he added his third finger, I was writhing and groaning.

“Please…” I whimpered. He unbuckled his trousers and slicked up his cock. He thrust hard into me.

“Fuck!” I shouted. He peppered kisses all over my face.

“Shhh… it’s been a while, I’ve got you, Harry.” I pulled him back into a deep kiss, and he stayed completely still while I tried to relax. He was leaned completely over me with a hand by my head and another pressed onto one of my hips. Eventually, the burning sensation in my ass began to dissipate.

“You can move,” I whispered, rolling my hips. He pulled out slightly, then thrusted slowly into me. I mewled, which encouraged him to move faster. Suddenly, he nudged against something deep inside me. I nearly screamed with the pleasure I felt course through my body.

“Tom!” I shouted. He thrusted against the spot again, causing me to twitch violently and repeatedly. I squeezed my legs around his back. I could feel a heat growing in my crotch.

“Tom, I’m close,” I breathed out. He thrusted harder and faster. I clenched down and screamed as I came, squeezing my legs tight to lock him inside me. He bit down on my neck as he came, panting loud in my ear.

“I love you, Harry,” he whispered. I probably loved him too, and said as much.

The next morning, Tom received a newspaper, and I read over his shoulder.

_Death Eaters Sighted Again! Stronger than Ever Before!_

“Who are the Death Eaters?” I asked.

“My army, designed to protect you,” replied Tom. I smiled at him.

He dressed me in a fine set of robes and walked me downstairs with a possessive arm around my waist. He sat down for breakfast and I sat down on his lap. He fed me small bites of American biscuits and gravy while I cuddled him in the chair. After a few minutes, someone else came downstairs.

“Ah yes,” said Tom, “Harry, I’d like you to meet my associate, Draco. Draco, Harry.” We nodded at each other.

“Say, Tom,” I started, “Did you ever find out who kidnapped me?”

“But of course,” he said.

“Who was it?” I asked.

Draco looked up. “Me.”

 

END


End file.
